


How To Decorate A Tree

by Sister of Silence (Orcbait)



Series: An Age of Heroes [5]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Holidays, Humor, Romance, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orcbait/pseuds/Sister%20of%20Silence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solstice is approaching and the Emperor of Mankind invited all His sons to return to Terra for the ancient holiday, no exceptions. Fulgrim had set his sights on decorating the magnificent tree Angron had brought, but the Emperor appears to keep him out of the way. This, of course, is unacceptable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Decorate A Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kishiriaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kishiriaz/gifts).



> A gift-fic for Kishiriaz and a plug-and-play addition to her amazingly funny series of Solstice ficlets she's been writing across the holidays.

Perturabo had fitted the enormous tree Angron had brought home into a sturdy stand he had specifically crafted for the purpose. The tree now stood, half decorated, on a prominent spot in the Hall of Memories. 

The Emperor glanced up at the tree, a box of decorations floating in front of Him. He wore a green sweater and brown slacks. The sweater had a winged reindeer on it and was not exactly the most flawlessly knitted garment in the history of the gentle hobby but that, of course, was not the point of the thing. He stood amid piles of boxes; many empty but some still full or half full with decorations. 

\+ Which one, then. + He remarked, a smile tugging at the corner of His lips at her mental sigh. 

_The golden one_ , Arlette thought again as she hung a small, glass reindeer into the tree right near the top. Despite floating in mid-air, she still leaned forward as if she were standing on a ladder and reaching for a spot she could only just reach. Decorations swarmed around her like a cloud of excited butterflies. 

\+ There are quite many golden ones. +

Arlette frowned. There was only one golden one like the one she meant, the one with the stripes. She could practically picture it in front of her. She had barely done so or the decoration in question zipped into her field of vision. With a broad smile she snatched it out of the air and hung it on a branch not far from the little glass reindeer. 

It was about then that Fulgrim finished decorating the Hall of Memories and resolved to help with the tree. He had offered his fabulous opinion on decorating it before but his Father had gently but firmly declined and instructed him to decorate the rest of the halls. If Fulgrim hadn't known better – his taste was flawless after all – he would have thought his Father was trying to keep him away from the tree! But that was ridiculous of course. 

When Fulgrim entered the main hall of the spaces collectively known as the Hall of Memories he saw, to his infinite pleasure, that his Father had not yet finished decorating the tree. Fulgrim observed it critically for a long moment. There were a lot of gold coloured ornaments in it, and red garlands too. Little yellow and white psychic lights drifted among the branches instead of actual candles. Fulgrim shook his head the way an artist might to an enthusiastic but unskilled student. It needed more purple, and some silver. But definitely more purple. And colourful lights, these were plain boring. 

“Good morning!” Fulgrim exclaimed happily, popping up like a Jack out of a Box beside the Emperor. And, considering the far too small and tight fitting purple and silver Little Helper's outfit Fulgrim was wearing that wasn't so far from the mark at all. 

The Emperor flinched, evidently having been mentally absorbed by the task of decorating the tree. His sudden shift was marked by a sharp, rather feminine cry. 

For a moment vertigo assaulted Fulgrim as reality slid out of shape in front of him. He saw a Sister tumble down, then suddenly fall at a ninety degree angle before gravity restored itself and she collapsed neatly into the Emperor's arms. He wasn't even looking in her direction while doing so. Instead He glared at Fulgrim. A moment later a rain of fragile ornaments bombed downward around them, shattering on the marble floor. 

Fulgrim shifted awkwardly, considering what he aught to say – if anything at all. Then he grinned and pulled out the mistletoe he'd been carrying and held it pointedly above his Father. He fully expected lightning to shoot from His eyes about now, and he had to try very hard not to giggle at the mental image. 

Surprisingly, nothing of the sort happened. The Sister had scrambled up in His embrace to look over His shoulder at Fulgrim, her head tipped sideways in obvious ignorance as she watched Fulgrim hold the silly branch over them. 

When she turned to look at the Emperor, mystified wonder in her green eyes, He leaned towards her and kissed her. Her eyes comically widened for a moment before she responded. Behind Him, Fulgrim pulled a face that would remain fondly in His memories for decades to come. 

Fulgrim simply stared. He had not expected... Had he missed something? Clearly he had missed something. The moment seemed to stretch itself on for an ungodly dreadful while, but it can't have been more than a few seconds in reality. For the next the Emperor looked at him, an eyebrow slowly arching up, the Sister standing beside Him. 

Amusement flitted across the Emperor's features as He engraved his infatuated son's reaction into a memory. He reached a hand towards him and gently pushed Fulgrim's jaw up with His index finger. The Phoenician's perfect teeth came together with an audible clack. 

Fulgrim blinked and found himself in the room of statues where he had been earlier, putting hats and scarfs around them. He still stood with his arm raised, but the mistletoe was no longer between his fingers. A frown creased his brow for a moment, but then a grin split onto his perfect features and he tried to suppress a giggle. He had to tell Ferrus. And Horus. And Sanguinius. Oh _and Roboute_. Grinning widely he all but skipped out of the halls, the decorating of the tree quite forgotten at the prospect of gossip. 

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of time and hard work went into the creation and publication of this story and as such it is very dear to me. I would love to hear what you thought of it! If you decide to share my story, please credit and link back to me. Thank you!


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